A Wizard Transplanted
by kyjori
Summary: Harry Potter wanted Voldemort dead. In the final battle at the Ministry of Magic, everyone is annihilated on both sides. Harry, holder of the Deathly Hallows, is transported to Middle Earth, and perseveres only to find himself in the War of the Rings.
1. Chapter 1

A Wizard Transplanted

By kyjori

Summary: Harry Potter had no qualms doing whatever it took to destroy Voldemort. In the final battle at the Ministry of Magic, he managed to demolish most of the buildings in a final attack upon Voldemort, annihilating everyone in the vicinity. Harry however already held the Deathly Hallows, and was transported to Middle Earth rather than continuing on the next great Adventure. Immortal, intelligent, and a survivor, Harry perseveres, only to find himself in another conflict that cumulates to the War of the Ring, and Middle Earth is once again at the crossroads, and only destruction awaits all those involved.

I do not own either Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, what a shame. I could do with the money.

**Prologue**

Arwen and Harry stood by Gandalf upon the battlements. The aged wizard had rallied the men after the imbecile, otherwise known as Denethor who was the Stewart of Gondor, had called for a foolish surrender.

"Send them into the abyss!" Gandalf bellowed out to the soldiers of Gondor. Multiple trebuchets were fired into the unending sea of orcs. Arwen gripped Harry's left hand, as they waited for the bombardment from each side to abate.

Piercing cries of the Nazgûl and their mounts ripped through the skies. From the ominous clouds above, the infamous ring wraiths descended upon the defending forces. After installing fear into the hearts of men, the serpentine mounts descended upon the artillery. In a matter of minutes, the beasts made mincemeat out if the trebuchets.

Harry stood too far away to protect their valuable weaponry, but inaction on his part ended soon after. Siege towers were approaching the walls. A boulder had ripped through one like a hot knife through butter, but there were many more still standing.

He knew that fiendfyre would burn the towers into the ground, but this was a siege; with only finite amount of energy with the outlook on time to recover bleak, he had to conserve his energy. Controlling the cursed fire would quickly drain him of his magic if he decided to burn down something so large. With the tens of thousands of enemy combatants, not to mention the Witch King if Angmar to contend with, he had to be fight strategically.

He withdrew his dagger from his waist and begun flat spinning the blade across the top of his hand. Arwen had drawn Hadhafang and was meditating before the onslaught of the orcs flooded their position.

She turned and gazed upon his eyes. The blue of hers were piercing and they conveyed the seriousness of her words. "Stay with me," she states simply, "let us hope that the Valar watch over us"

He simply nodded in agreement Harry knew she had lived for almost 3000 years, and her skills with a sword was nothing to scoff at. Her prowess in physical combat definitely surpasses his own, considering she had over 2000 years of training on him. But even that wasn't likely to cause him to leave her side during this battle. He would be damned if anyone would try to kill her on his watch. Not to mention, if anything happened to her, he would have to deal with an enraged Lord Elrond; this was something to be avoided at all cost.

"Be swift. No hesitation. We shall be the harbingers of death to these fiends." Harry stated right before the doors of the siege towers slammed down in top of the walls.

Waves upon waves crashed down on the defenders. The clang of metal on metal was ringing through the air. Screams from fallen soldiers, war cries from the standing men and the guttural roars from the orcs were never ending. Gondorian soldiers fought valiantly against the never ending tide.

Harry and Arwen stood in the midst of the enemy, backs against each other. Hadhafang made mincemeat of the orcs. Arwen moved like she was in an elegant dance, twisting and turning to dodge fatal blows, slashing the exposed necks of her enemies, and all the while making it look so simple. Harry was telekinetically controlling Angrist with his left hand. The knife known as iron cutter, cut through the air with ease, and slay orcs left and right. If this legendary knife could cut through Morgoth's iron crown, the primitive armor of the orcs stood no chance. Orcs fell easily to the knife that sailed through the air, administrating a clean death to all who came near by simply diving into the chests or slashing the throats of its victims.

Those that escaped their fate from Hadhafang or Angrist were immediately dealt with by the stream of dark cutting curses that were cleaving its way through the sea of orcs. The elder wand swept through the air in the right hand of the young wizard. The wand almost sung in glee as it painted the ramparts with the blood of its enemies. Stormy Emerald green eyes glowed as the power of the Istar radiated from every pore on his body. Even though the orcs wished for anything else than to charge at the tandem, the fear of the Nazgûl drove them forward.

Many bodies were strewn upon the ground. Harry had picked up a fallen broadsword from a soldier to use. Sword in one hand, dagger in the other, he continued to fight on. He had chosen to holster his wand in order to conserve his strength, and was fighting with the skills that Celeborn and Haldir had taught him in the woods of Lothlórien. His attention was drawn away by Arwen dragging him to her side. She pointed and Harry's jaw dropped. There stood the slowly approaching battering ram of epic proportions. Over a hundred feet long, it was ushered in by the chants of Grond by the orcs. The front was made of steel shaped of a ravenous wolf with its mouth enflamed, was pushed towards the gate by a horde of mountain trolls.

Harry immediately dropped his sword and his wand flew to his hand. He inventoried his spell list mentally, and decided upon the blasting curse. With a quick counterclockwise twirl with his wand, he jabbed and silent confringo, a yellow streak shot like a bullet at Grond. The spell however reflected off the ram into a group of orcs who were subsequently turned into fertilizer in the large crater. Harry cursed and waved the wand over his head in a wide circle. Flames of red and orange were beginning to form shift into existence and condense. The form of a great Eagle could be seen in the midst. Harry brought the wand down in the direction of the battering ram. "Fiendfyre!" Harry roared, and the eagle of fire dove at its target. He could immediately feel the magic drain out of his core due to the strenuous spell, but he was awarded with a raging inferno blazing around Grond. Sweat dripped down his brow while the mountain trolls were crying out in anguish around his target.

Harry held the spell for almost half a minute before he forced the flames to flash out of existence, but after the smoke cleared, Grond still stood. Other trolls rushed to replace the dead ones, but before Harry could do anything else, a Nazgûl shriek was heard way too close for comfort. Its flying mount was on a trajectory straight for him.

"Arwen! Nazgûl, get ready to retreat!" he brought his wand up shot a reducto in the direction of it, but the flying mount was able to dodge. Arwen was still fighting off the infinite amount of orcs. The blood of her enemies stained her sword and clothes, but she seemed unperturbed and fought on.

Harry knew he could not get drawn into an extended duel with a Nazgûl when they were pretty much surrounded by orcs. His eyes glanced at the archway that led to their retreat. Left hand swung Angrist straight at the hooded face of the wraith, while his right pointed the wand at their escape route. He let loose an overpowered explosion curse pave a way for them to escape and called back his knife to its holder. He grabbed Arwen's hand and the pair ran for it. Fortunately for them, the Nazgûl mount was too large to pursue them and before the orcs could react, Harry waved his wand transfiguring the scrap material around their escape route to form a solid marble wall.

"Harry, thank you," she said between gasps.

"Anytime Arwen." he leaned back against the wall drawing deep breaths. He slid down and took a seat. " We should probably head toward the main gates."

"Yes Harry. Grond will break through the outermost defense very soon." she sighed and sat down across from her partner. "We should assist Gandalf as soon as we are able." Arwen's statement was emphasized when a sound of metal on wood reverberated throughout the castle.

She reached out as drew Harry into an embrace. "Hebo estel Harry."

"Le hannon," Harry thanked her as he tightened the hug. He knew that he would hold on to the hope that everything would turn out alright, no matter how frail, as long as she stood by him.

***Hebo estel means have hope in Elvish, and Le hannon is thank you***


	2. Chapter 2

A Wizard Transplanted

By kyjori

Summary: Harry Potter had no qualms doing whatever it took to destroy Voldemort. In the final battle at the Ministry of Magic, he managed to demolish most of the buildings in a final attack upon Voldemort, annihilating everyone in the vicinity. Harry however already held the Deathly Hallows, and was transported to Middle Earth rather than continuing on the next great Adventure. Immortal, intelligent, and a survivor, Harry perseveres, only to find himself in another conflict that cumulates to the War of the Ring, and Middle Earth is once again at the crossroads, and only destruction awaits all those involved.

I do not own either Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, what a shame. I could do with the money.

**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter stood atop a bluff that stood a handful of leagues away from the Lonely Mountain. He was sitting upon a rock simply taking in the magnificent view. He knew Gandalf and his band of Dwarves and the single Hobbit had trekked to the mountain in order to win back the treasures lost to Smaug. However, Gandalf and the others had no idea that he was there. His adopted mother, Galadriel, had seen great peril for the people of Middle Earth should the Úlairi, the Ringwraiths, were to interfere. So there he was, sent as the Lady of the Wood's champion, waiting.

With time on his hands, it was hard for Harry not to ponder upon the events 122 years ago that led to him being dragged to Middle Earth...

-flashback-

Harry was running through the halls of the Ministry of Magic. He couldn't look back, there were only Death Eaters behind him and he knew Voldemort wouldn't be too far behind. He had to get them to the heart of the Department of Mysteries, where the strong anti-apparition wards would keep his enemy in place. _Concentrate, _Harry told himself as he lifted his wand and shot a reducto at the door blocking his way. The stairwell was before him, but he still had to reach the lowest levels to access the DoM. _This is going to hurt. _While he was still running, he placed his hands on the stairwell and jumped straight down, the quickest pathway to the bottom floor.

The Death Eaters were still chasing him, but stared in shock when they observed the Potter scion leap across the banister. There was no way anyone could come out unscathed from a fall 10 stories down. They quickly reached the handrail, but before they could even look down, they heard Potter.

"ARRESTO MOMENTUM!" Harry was slowed down to a snail's pace right before he careened into the ground at the speed of gravity. He looked up and gave them the finger before rushing through the entrance to his destination. He knew he had bought some time before they would catch up to him. He continued onto the Veil room, but the same line kept running through his mind: _How the bloody hell did it come to this_. The Order of the Phoenix was simply losing the war. They had lost so many people. Ron was lost to arrogance when dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, Professor McGonagall was ambushed by a team of Death Eaters led by none other than Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore died in a valiant effort to defend the students during a Hogsmeade visit when the ministry aurors abandoned their post due to the onslaught of from a group of giants led by Voldemort himself, and countless others. The surviving members had resigned themselves to one final confrontation that would hopefully bring down the threat once and for all.

There it stood alone on the dais, the dilapidated stone archway with no support but the Veil somehow hung from it, as if it were a shimmering curtain gently fluttering. Now, he just had to wait for the rest of the party to show up. This was their final stand. The whole order had helped Harry assault the Ministry that was in control by Voldemort. He had no idea how many survived since the mission was more important than any of their lives at this point. Who better to bait Voldemort with than the Boy-Who-Lived? He looked at the Elder Wand in his right hand, which was adorned by the Resurrection Ring on his pointer finger. He had the Deathly Hallows ever since he and Dumbledore dueled when their tempers flared over how to deal with Death Eaters in the field. Harry had advocated for more permanent solutions, while Dumbledore still stuck to stunners. Needless to say, Harry won. However, even with the power of the Deathly Hallows, he wasn't able to triumph over Voldemort. The items magnified his magic exponentially, but the Dark Lord was no slouch. Through his prodigious skill in the dark arts, he had fought Harry again and again to a standstill. But this would all end today.

Voldemort followed by his loyal Death Eaters had entered the antechamber. The first thing he noticed was Harry Potter near the dais that the veil rested upon, sword in his left hand, wand in his right. "Well, well, if it isn't Harry Potter. It looks as though you have nowhere to run or people to hide behind." The Dark Lord signaled his minions to circle his pretty. "At long last, we will finish what we started all those years ago. Today Harry, you will fall to my wand."

Harry silently lifted his wand and cast a patronus. An ethereal eagle appeared and zoomed immediately out the room. Voldemort simply raised one eyebrow at the young wizard. "Sending someone your last words?"

"Tom Riddle, do you know what M.A.D. is?"

- scene break-

Hermione Granger sat hidden in a courtroom in the Ministry of Magic. She had snuck in within the chaos as her best friend led Voldemort and his allies in a merry chase through the premises. In front her sat a muggle device that they had managed to get from the British government. This was the solution they had come to in the fateful meeting had come to. This would be their final sacrifice by them in order to blot off the vilest dark lord England has ever seen. A single tear streaked down Hermione's cheek, as she patiently waited for the signal from Harry to arrive. _There_, the patronus from Harry had finally arrived.

"It's time Hermione… I hope… I just want to say thanks for standing by me all these years…" And with that the patronus faded into nothingness. _This is it. This is the end. May God have mercy on our souls…_ Hermione triggered the device to activate.

-scene break-

Harry knew he had less than a minute to live. The veil room was much too far from any apparition point for Voldemort of his followers to escape now. He smirked at his nemesis, who was standing with not a worry in the world.

"Tom Riddle, do you know what M.A.D. is?"

"What the bloody are you going on about Potter?"

"M.A.D. is an acronym in the muggle world, but it's not important if you don't know."

"What I don't know? Are you simply being dim Potter? All I need to know is this is the end for you. Finally, the prophecy will be completed and no one will be able to stand in my way!" He cackled madly while his staunch supporters stood there in silence. They knew that nobody was to interfere in this final clash between titans.

Harry just shook his head. "Ignorance is bliss, quite correct, isn't it Tom? Let me ask, do you know happens when you gather a small amount of Uranium isotopes, neutrons, and explosives?"

Voldemort responded with a Cruciatus that was shot straight at Harry's chest. He dodged by spinning to the side, closer to where the veil was. "Potter, you are just delaying your inevitable demise. I will make it painless if you would beg on your knees for a quick death."

Harry simply ignored the remark and slowly backed towards the Veil entrance while he twirled his wand and fired a blasting hex at the dark lord. "I know it will be painless. You have to admire the muggles. A device where neutrons are blasted at vast speeds to split an atom, and it tumbles into a firestorm that rivals the temperature of the sun. That isn't even including the blast from the energy produced that will level this whole of London." He used the Sword of Gryffindor in his left hand to deflect a few curses Voldemort was sending his way. "Tom, we're both dead, along with everyone in a 10 mile radius. Hopefully I don't see you in hell!" And with that declaration, Harry sprinted and leapt into the Veil of Death.

-scene break-

_Thud_.

Harry landed on his bum in the middle of a forest. _Am I dead?_ He looked down and noticed he was still dressed and armed in the same manner he was before he leapt into the Veil, he tried to orient himself to his surroundings. Though exhausted, he managed to look behind him to see a figure behind him looking at him in surprise. The sight took his breath away. Calling her beautiful seemed to do her a disservice, but the best he could come up with was regal. Her blond tresses flowed down halfway down her back, which seemed to glow, which was adorned by a silver tiara with leaves made of gold. She wore a white cloak with a loose hood that was pulled up. But the stress and exhaustion from the battle at the ministry along with whatever the bloody veil did to him was catching up to him, and he soon passed out.

-end flashback-

He couldn't help but chuckle. Galadriel had explained to him how he had materialized out of thin air. A faint crackle stirred the air white it shimmered a silver-blue preceded his appearance. She had whisked him off to Lothlórien herself for healing. Both of them still didn't know how to explain the phenomenon but it didn't matter at this point. She had been a balm for his soul all the years he had spent in Middle Earth.

It had taken countless decades to recover from the entirety of the emotional trauma; time with the Dursleys, fighting Voldemort, and losing close people all marred his soul that even he hadn't been able to fathom. He was only 17 when he first appeared before the Elven Queen, and she had pretty much adopted him as her own child. He was the only youngling in the city, and she had missed being a caretaker ever since her granddaughter Arwen had left to return for Rivendell.

He had initially only been able to speak Westron, and Galadriel had patiently spent time with him to teach Sindarin to the young wizard. He in turn had showed her the wonders of the magic he wielded. Transfiguration, charms, and enchantments were shared, but he refused to share the dark arts he had employed against his enemies in the battle against Voldemort's forces. It was a time of healing for them, and Harry simply didn't need an extra reminder of the war and everyone he had lost.

At first, Harry was very closed off. Galadriel alone seemed to be able to bring him out of his shell. But soon, other elves had begun to take a bigger part in his life. Haldir had taken up teaching Harry with the sword and bow after Galadriel instructed him to. He had actually met the twin elves Elladan and Elohir in one of their visits to Caras Galadhon, but even though they were quite jovial, they stayed too short to make a lasting impression on him.

His thoughts were interrupted as 9 horsemen cloaked in black were riding towards to Lonely Mountain following the edge of the Mirkwood, along the path next to Esgaroth, the Long Lake. This was it. This was why he had come. Galadriel knew that they must be stopped, and who better to stop them than one of the most powerful wizard in the lands of Middle Earth?

*AN *

I know this story is quite jumbled up, but I am trying my best. Hopefully you enjoy this, and I want to hit Harry's past living up in Lothlórien in more detail in the future. I plan to address many things, and I have only scraped the tip of the iceberg with this chapter. Harry will be 200 years old in the times of the War of the Rings. Any suggestions and constructive criticism is welcome along with reviews! Feed me more reviews! It feels like my work/effort is validated when people actually read it!


	3. Chapter 3

A Wizard Transplanted

By kyjori

Summary: Harry Potter had no qualms doing whatever it took to destroy Voldemort. In the final battle at the Ministry of Magic, he managed to demolish most of the buildings in a final attack upon Voldemort, annihilating everyone in the vicinity. Harry however already held the Deathly Hallows, and was transported to Middle Earth rather than continuing on the next great Adventure. Immortal, intelligent, and a survivor, Harry perseveres, only to find himself in another conflict that cumulates to the War of the Ring, and Middle Earth is once again at the crossroads, and only destruction awaits all those involved.

I do not own either Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, what a shame. I could do with the money.

Elvish_  
__Thoughts  
_(Elvish translation)

Chapter 2

_Thwump, Thwump._

The sound of wings beating on the air was unmistakable. The Nazgul immediately halted their advanced and looked up, only to find the sight of a great eagle plunging down at them at breakneck speed. A shrill screech tore through the air as the eagle drew nearer to the group by the second. The ringwraiths were in a confused stupor, frozen in their tracks with no idea what to do. Right before the eagle crash landed into them, it morphed in the air into a human being with a gleaming sword in both hands drawn to the side. He slashed while still moving at great speeds and 5 nazgul who were beheaded emitted a shrill scream into the air before they vanished; only leaving behind their morgul blades and black cloaks. The horses they victims were mounted on quickly ran off in fright. The man with a mess of dark brown hair, landed in a kneeling position, while the remaining wraiths tried to keep their mounts under control.

By the time the horses regained their calm; the man had slowly risen and faced the remaining ringwraiths. The man held a wand in his right. In his left hand, was a yellow-gold sword; in which a blood-red ruby the size of a tennis ball was at the pommel, and the blade itself was reflective silver.

The Witch King of Angmar forbidding whisper pervaded the air, "Who dares stands in the way of the Nazgul?"

Harry Potter simply raised his right hand, drawing up the elder wand in response. "Harry Potter of Lothlorien. Fancy meeting you." A ball of fire materialized and swelled up to a size of a bowling ball at the tip of his wand. The next second, it was hurled directly at the Witch King. The wraith drew up its gauntlet in the path of the fireball as a shield. What shocked Harry was when it simply brushed off the spell with little effort. "Hmm… bugger." Harry quickly shot a wide cleaving curse at the horses, but before the spell even hit, he had already done a 180 and was sprinting towards Forest River.

The Nazgul was off the fallen horses and was beginning to give pursuit. Each had their morgul blades drawn as they followed the wizard into the Mirkwoods. The human they were pursuing was weaving in between the trees at a fair clip, but catching their prey was inevitable. The trees provided a canopy for its inhabitants: ringwraiths and the lone wizard were playing a deadly game of cats and mouse. The wizard, who looked not a day over 30, was doing his best to survive. It was quite apparent to see as he flew in and out of pockets of trees and changing directions randomly. His path was chaotic, and the forest only seemed to be getting denser as they moved into its depths.

Harry wasn't just idly running through the forest, dragging along his Nazgul pursuers. He was actually running on a mental track that carved an oblong shape that lay perpendicular to the border of the forest. While Harry was running, he was laying all kinds of traps all over the route: Transfiguration, Rune-based, and Charm traps all were placed strategically.

It was time to take a more proactive approach. Harry pointed his wand at the ground a few paces in front of the nazgul at the head of the pack. Vines transfigured immediately and sprouted towards the feet of the wraith. It gracelessly planted its face into the ground, and the vines expanded outwards like a sonar wave. Harry instantly responded with a dark cleaving curse that the Nazgul was unable to deflect with its armor, and was quickly beheaded. However, the magical barrier traps he had erected were useless, and the remaining ringwraiths finally managed to corner him. One of the cloaked figures stepped forward with purpose, bringing down its blade to slash his chest diagonally. Harry quickly parried the strike, only to spin around to face a second nazgul who had swiped to behead him. Before the sword lopped off his head, Harry ducked below the swing, and struck back with a wall of water that pushed the Nazgul back. However, it was next the Witch King raining down a flurry of blows. It caused Harry to abandon magic, and switched to using both hands to wield the Sword of Gryffindor to successfully ward off the relentless attack. Harry parried blows from almost every imaginable direction, but the Witch King did not relent one inch. While Harry was forced on the defensive, the other two ringwraiths had already commenced their own assault. He was literally dancing between the weapons of the three wraiths: sidestepping downward slashes, parrying stabs with his own weapon, ducking out of sideway swipes, and spinning out of the way when multiple blades converged upon him. The training with Haldir and hunting Orcs that braved the Golden Woods was finally paying off, but it was not something he could keep up indefinitely. Sweat poured down his face, and his robes were bogged down due to the perspiration it was absorbing after the strain of blocking blows after blows while his feet moved like a boxer.

_I have to end this soon. _He glanced behind one of his foes and noticed his final trap; his mage sight revealed the rune word for Dragon's Breath. Harry quickly whirled his sword in a circle, pushing back the wraiths for a second, and followed by charging the ring wraith that stood nearest to the rune. He bashed the ring wraith with the pommel of his sword before it could react, and launched him towards the trap. Immediately, a wand materialized in his right hand and triggered his final trap.

The results were immediate. A blazing inferno shot skyward that disintegrated the wraith trapped within the perimeter of the trap. Harry was already moving, before the other two could react. He lunged with the pointy end of his sword stabbing the faceless void under the hood of the wraith. But the Witch King was already in action; his morgul blade swiftly slashing down on his outstretched arm holding his sword. Harry had to drop his sword to draw his arm back quick enough to avoid losing an arm. Suddenly disarmed, it was obvious that he had drawn to short stick of the bunch, and with no weapon to deflect any of the physical attacks, panic was setting in. Harry weaved between the swings, jumped backwards to slashes, and nimbly dodged thrusts, but it was just delaying the inevitable. He needed a plan, and he needed it ASAP.

The leader of the Nazgul was feeling confident. He was insuring that he always stood between his opponent and his fallen weapon. It was only a matter of time now. With the constant stream of attacks, he didn't give the strange Istar a time to cast any spells, and besides, he was much too close for effective spellcasting. "It is futile, Istar. One does not defy the will of the Nazgul. Now you will die." If he could smirk, he would have flashed his widest one at his foe.

While the Witch King was talking, Harry appraised the situation. He realized they were near the border of the Mirkwood, and he only had one way to survive this conflict. "I don't think so," Harry managed to mutter out. Immediately, he darted behind a tree as his enemy overextended one swing, and cast a spell. An unnatural fog pervaded the forest of Mirkwood, and Harry bolted like a cheetah, towards the Celduin, the river that bordered to the east. Footsteps crashed through the forest behind him, though he could see nothing, it spurred Harry to run even faster. After what seemed like forever for the wizard, he could hear the running waters of the Celduin. There was finally a break in the forest and Harry leapt toward the opening. In mid-air, Harry transformed into his animagus form, and quickly climbed into the air.

The Witch King of Angmar stood at the edge of Mirkwood, and stared up at the retreating great eagle. "Your demise will be at my hand Istar. It is far from over," he whispered.

The Golden Woods were finally underneath him. It was a long journey that he was shocked to have made it this far. However, Harry felt conflicted. On one hand, he had survived the successful ambush of the Nazgul, but at the same time he had lost his sword. The Sword of Gryffindor was lying in either in the Mirkwood, or even worse, the hands of the Witch King. But above all, the constant strain of exhaustion was ever present. Even though Harry had reached the safety of his homeland, he was on the verge of collapse.

"What is wrong my child?" Galadriel whispered into his mind, her voice filled with motherly concern.

"Tired…" Harry muttered in his mind before the darkness took him.

It was impossible for the sentinels not to notice the great eagle that crashed through the canopy. The squad of elves quickly converged on the landing site and immediately noticed the adopted son of their lady. "We must get him to Lothlorien immediately." A makeshift stretcher was constructed and whisked their valuable patient home.

When Harry awoke from his slumber, he was immediately greeted at the sight of his adopted mother, standing above him. "Harry, are you feeling well?" Galadriel greeted him upon waking. Harry stretched his limbs like a cat, and tried to sit up. However, the Elven lady lightly pressed down on his chest. "Please, don't get up for me. You should rest more child."

"How long have I been asleep?" He asked while he observed his surroundings, and immediately noticed the partially hidden chair where his cloak of invisibility rested indicating that he was resting in his room.

"It has been 6 days and 5 nights dear." She gently cupped his cheeks with her hand. "I am glad to have you home again."

"Me too mother. At least Gandalf won't be hindered by the enemy on his mission." He takes a deep breath

Galadriel pecked Harry's forehead before standing up straight. "Make sure to rest more Harry." She left the room and allowed Harry to be alone with his own thoughts.

Galadriel and Harry were walking through the forests, flanked by unseen guards. The mission that she had sent her adopted son on was harrowing and nearly fatal for him. While they both knew that it was vital for the success of Gandalf and his mission to the Lonely Mountain, it was a task she desired not to send him on again. Stopping the Nazgul alone was foolish, and she should have known better than to pit a single wizard against the nine. However, fortune smiled upon them and Harry had made it home safely.

The loss of the Sword of Gryffindor weighed heavily upon Harry's heart. It was a piece of his past, one of the only relics he still carried from his old world before he was spirited off to the world of Arda. Galadriel sensed the turmoil and immediately moved to reassure him and drew him into her arms. "It is a tragedy that you have lost your sword, but I am rather glad that I have you back home uninjured, without. I am happy you did not take unnecessary risks to obtain the artifact."

Still in the arms of the elf, he nodded slightly against her. He knew she was correct in her conclusion, but it didn't take away the pain. She finally let him go and they proceeded to trek through the forest, talking about topics from the inane such as the weather, to what her home was like in Valinor. Harry wondered what would happen when it was time for her to return home. He knew that she would stay until the threat of Sauron was dealt with, but if it came time to leave these lands, would he be allowed to join the elves or stay here in Middle Earth. He pulled away from Galadriel's arms and continued wandering the Golden Woods.

Galadriel via communication with Elrond knew that there would be a culmination in matters regarding the enemy in the near future. They knew not the manner of how the matter would unwind, but they must be ever weary and prepared for the conflict. She was reluctant to admit it to herself, but her son would soon play a pivotal role in the fate of Middle Earth. All she could do was to insure that Harry was cared for and prepared for the eventual onslaught of violence.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the late update. School has been overwhelming, and most of my free time is dedicated to studying. (I guess going for a doctoral degree is a bit tougher than undergrad courses =(, but I will endure on!) Longer author's note at the end to summarize where the next chapter will head. I didn't bother really editing this. I lost my information for the outlines for future chapters so I am going through everything by memory, and it isn't as organized as I wanted things to be.

"Ugh. The light is so bright," moaned Harry. The sunshine was streaming into his familiar bedroom and he was attempting to hide his face in a pillow. However, this was not meant to be.

"You have been asleep long enough Harry."

Harry slowly turned to face his adopted mother. "You have no idea how sore I am, but I guess I can't hold off the inevitable." Grumbling, he managed to sit himself up on a mound of pillows. "You were right in your suspicions mother, the Nazgul are roaming the lands once again."

Galadriel stood fast and gazed into the forests of her home. She could feel it in her ethereal bones that events were moving much quicker than anticipated. She recalled the council that she had attended with the White Council, and could only shake her head at the unwillingness of the group. They had grown complacent since the fall of Sauron. It was only inevitable that Sauron do all that was possible to regain his power. It made her fear for her people and her family. She returned her gaze to her adopted son, and despite the selfishness of her wish, prayed a silent prayer to the Valar that those closest to her would come out of the future conflicts unscathed. "Could you relay me the exact events that occurred during your excursion dear son of mine?"

Harry proceeded to recount his encounter with the Nazgul. Galadriel's heart fluttered as the conflict, and couldn't help herself from wrapping her son in her arms. "Continue on, I am just glad that you made it home safely," and urged him to continue this tale.

Harry looked up to Galadriel adorning him with a proud smile. No words needed to be conveyed, and contentment filled his heart. Suddenly a loud rumble reverberated between them. A blush adorned the cheeks of Harry Potter, and was sent off to the kitchens to find a bite to eat.

after filling the empty bowels of his stomach, harry had wandered off to the training grounds. Due to the fact that the necessities of rest and nutrient had been met, Harry's mind was allowed to roam free. And the thing it kept coming back to was the fact that he had lost the Sword of Gryffindor. He had lost the relic sword of his past. God knows where it resides now, lost in the Mirkwood. At random, harry picked up swords, daggers, claymores, and whatever caught his attention, but after a couple swings with each, they all left him unsatisfied. A morose look was set on his face, and none of these weapons compared to the dwarves made sword of his old world. The elves of old could have matched the craftsmanship, or even the dwarves, but the likelihood of encountering weapons from either of these sources were few and far between.

Haldir wandered upon the adopted son of Galadriel, practicing with bow and arrow. He noticed an array of weapons that lay scattered around him, sighed, and approached the young heir. "What troubles you so, young master?"

"I lost my sword in the Mirkwood," Harry sighed, "And I am not so young anymore compared to when I first arrived in these lands Haldir."

The Marchwarden released a quiet chuckle, "Compared to I, you are still a youngling." His face lost its smirk and turned stoic, "I am sorry about your lost weapon, but perhaps it will be a chance to pick up a new weapon to learn?"

"I guess this is what all these weapons," Harry waved his hand around him, "is all about. I have yet to find a suitable replacement, but I doubt I will here."

"I wish you the best of luck. I must take my leave now." With that, Haldir walked away noiselessly.

Harry muttered a goodbye towards the retreating back of the marchwarden. He turned back towards his array of weapon and continued sampling and practicing a new art of warfare.

It had been a month and Harry had continued his existence in the serenity of Lothlorien. His existence was a closely guarded secret of the golden woods, and Galadriel had deemed it best to continue this policy, and kept his presence unknown from the prying eyes of the residents of Arda, including the white Council. her distrust of the functionality of the council was ever growing. She had contacted its members through her telepathy, but Saruman the White kept dismissing the threat of the wraiths. He insisted that these incidents were minor, over-exagerated, and there was no reason to tackle the issue head on when they have lived in peace for the past 400 years. However, Galadriel was not a fool. She had not resided in middle earth, through both the times of Melkor and Sauron to underestimate the forces of evil. She and Celeborn had ordered to increase the preparedness of the Elven forces under their command. She also urged Elrond to insure that their forces were ready for the future conflict with the dark forces looming over their world was an inevitability that she knew Elrond foresaw. Even though the Nazgul have encountered her son, she planned on keeping all details of the strange wizard as mucky as the deepest abysses of the Mirkwood.

Her thoughts were dragged towards today. Today, was the first day Harry first appeared in Arda, and his unofficial birthday in their world. Hidden within the folds of her dress was the dagger Angrist, made by Telchor of Norgod, one of the legendary smiths of Middle-Earth. The fragments had been found long ago, but the Elvish weaponsmiths of Imladris had reforged it. A smile adorned her face as she thought of Harry's reaction to receiving this gift. He had yet to find a weapon to replace his sword, but she knew this would be suitable for him.

She approached the figure in customary black robes under forest green cloak, which were quite an eyesore in contrast to the ethereal colors of the golden woods, and enveloped him in a hug. "Happy birthday my son." Emerald green eyes shined back at her, alongside a huge grin.

"Hannon le," replied Harry in thanks. (means thank you)

"Here, I have a gift for you," Galadriel said as she pulled out the dagger, wrapped in a silk.

Harry eyebrow quirked up, and reverently took the gift from her hand. "You really didn't have to," replied Harry while he unwrapped his gift, "I am perfectly happy..." but Harry's voice trailed off. His eyes widened comically at the sight of the beautiful dagger made of mithril. A single emerald lay where the blade met the handle, and it flashed brilliantly from the sunlight. "This is amazing." He used his telekinetic ability to hold the knife in the air wandlessly to examine it while it rotated around.

Galadriel was gleeful at the positive response. "This knife is known as Angrist, or the Iron Cleaver, originally created be one of the dwarves of the first age and reforged by the weaponsmiths in Rivendell. I know that isn't quite the weapon that your sword was, but I believed that it would serve you well for short-range combat."

"I don't know what to say..." Harry experimentally moved the knife through the air via magic. "this is a wonderful gift, you have no idea how grateful I am."

"Yes I do," Galadriel responded while she wore her trademark smirk.

Harry transfigured a holster for his new weapon and placed it away before he drew Galadriel into a hug. "thank you, I will cherish this gift and hopefully have better luck holding onto it then before."

"You're welcome Harry Potter."

*AN*

Okay, initially I had this story span the time period up until the trilogy, and minor side stories and what not... but I lost all my files. The next chapter will fast forward to the Fellowship of the Ring events. Harry will not simply fly Frodo to Mt. Doom because he would be caught by the Lidless Eye of Sauron and Nazgul on the Fell Beasts would probably own him in an outnumbered fight. Plus, he is loyal to the safety of his home and the people of Lothlorien. Hopefully, I can update sooner than later, but I want to address my SW fanfic first. Thanks for reading, sorry for the short/awful chapter, but I simply wanted to fast forward to the next arc.


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